


Newt Scamander's Home for Traumatized Witches and Wizards

by drunknpylades



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMFGraves, BAMFNewt, BAMFSeraphina, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kinda, Percy Never Deserved This, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Torture, he's a quiet kinda badass, newt's creatures are therapy animals, too precious for normal society
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-01 12:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunknpylades/pseuds/drunknpylades
Summary: Percical Graves has served his country and his fellow witches and wizards with pride. Unfortunately, it's seen as best for everyone involved if he takes a kind of vacation. Where does one go when they've been tortured by a dark wizard and are now forced to leave the only home they've ever known because no one can look at him without flinching?
Europe, of course. London, more specifically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I knew i had to write this the moment I discovered that Grindlewald was using a Polyjuice potions to imitate Graves' appearance. The poor guy deserves a happy ending and I'm going to try and give him one. 
> 
> There's going to be talk of torture and other not so nice traumas, so if that's not your cup of tea then you might wanna think about skipping this one, because it's going to be peppered throughout. No pairings yet, but if some decide to crop up they will be added as they make an appearance. I'm not sure just how long this is going to be but I have the first few chapters typed up and will be trying to post a new one at least once a week. This is unbetad and all mistakes are mine so please let me know if something is out of order.
> 
> None of the characters or magical nonsense belongs to me and I'm not making any money from any of this.

 

“It’s nothing personal.” The words are in his ears, hot and putrescent and wrong.

“It’s not even about you at all.” There’s a hand at his throat even though the man holding him is yards away. It’s a cold, constant pressure choking the life out of him. His wand was dropped what seemed like ages ago when he started trying to claw at the invisible vice around his neck.

“It’s about your position, you see. I need the power of the Magical Congress and you,” Something runs through his hair but no matter how hard he struggles he can’t break away from the touch. “Are you going to help me get it.”

His own fingers have cut bloody furrows into his own skin in an attempt to get free. To get away from the icy chill of this man’s magic.

There is a tiny pinprick of pain at his hairline and a small sound of denial escapes him. The things this monster has planned are starting to come to light in his own panicked mind and he can’t let that happen.

“Don’t--” Everything seems to stop for a moment, like the very world around him is holding its breath.

All of a sudden he’s dropped, the icy grip around his throat disappearing as he falls to his knees on the frozen ground. Blood soaks through his trousers and he refuses to look around for the source. The other Aurors he’d brought with him are dead.

He knows this. He will never forget their faces; frozen in shock and disbelief as they’d been struck down moments after arrival. Most hadn’t even had time to draw their wands.

The man -no, the monster- had been waiting for them.

“You still think this is something you can stop.” There’s a real hand in his hair now, yanking his head up to meet mismatched eyes. “Something you can put an end to if you just fight hard enough,” Those eyes are laughing at him.

“My dear Percival, you could never hope to stop me.” There’s a small flask in the man’s other hand that he now lifts to his mouth, still grinning that cheshire grin as he drinks. “Why would anyone want to  stop me?”

Right before his eyes the man’s face is changing, morphing into something so familiar it makes his gut ache. He’d had a feeling that this is where everything had been headed when he’d been left alive. Out of all of them that had come tonight he’d been the only one still breathing when the spellwork had stopped and dread had cut through him like a hot knife.

The only difference between himself and the other Aurors was his title.

His own eyes looked back at him now, his own mouth twisted into some smug grin that looked so very foreign on his own face.

Damn him. Damn Grindlewald and all his schemes and dark magic and lust for power.

He gathered what strength he had left and slammed his head forward, smiling when he felt something give under the crush of his forehead against bone. It was too bad that the sense of satisfaction was so short lived.

“Crucio.”

Then he knows nothing but pain and dark and _cold cold cold._

 

\--

 

“Where is he?”

Seraphina Picquery is not a woman to be kept waiting, and neither is she a witch to be trifled with.

Gellert Grindlewald has now done both of those things and she is coming to the end of her very short temper.

“We now know that you’ve been using a Polyjuice potion to impersonate him, so Mr. Graves must still be alive, and close enough for you to get to if you needed another dose.” She leans across the table, magic sparking across her shoulders and settling in her spine, just under the serpent on her jacket.

“So I’ll ask you again; Where is Percival Graves?”

That same smug little smile hasn’t left the man’s face the entire time they’ve been in the room. It only widens now.

“It’s really quite amazing the amount of pain a body can tolerate while still being alive.”

Seraphina clenches her hands where they rest on her lap. She will not give this madman the satisfaction of seeing the effect his words have on her.

Graves had been her right hand and colleague for years, but more than that he had been her friend and confidant.  
  
When Grindlewald’s deception was revealed it had taken everything in her power not to strike the wizard down where he stood. The fact that he’s now taunting her with it is pushing her calm to is limits. A beam creaking under the force of holding up her control.

“Do you know that he called for you?”

Wood splinters in her mind’s eye and her nails dig bloody half moons into her palms.

“Only once though, I’m afraid. When his pleas went unheard I do believe the man lost hope.”

The beam breaks. She shoots to her feet, hands on the table and the metal growing hot under her fingers. There’s heat under her shoulder blades and her teeth grind together with the force of keeping her mouth shut. So many words and curses begging for release, to jump from her lips and inflict the pain Grindlewald talks about.

He deserves no less. He deserves everything he’s done to Graves and more, but she can’t be the one to give it to him. She’s the President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America and she must be seen as someone without bias and without malice.

Grindlewald continues to smile.

“We will find him.” She leans in, almost nose to nose, looking into those sickly mismatched eyes and promising, “And then I’m going to bury you in a hole so dark even the Dementors won’t find you.”

With all the grace and control she possesses Seraphina makes herself leave the room. She turns back only once to look through the little window set in the door.

The sight of Grindlewald’s teeth, flashing at her in triumph will haunt her nights for years to come.

 

\--

 

It’s been too long. He’s lost the ability to tell time in this darkness, but he knows in his gut that he’s been left alone for too long.

Grindlewald has never left him in the dark for more than a day or two.

There are two buckets on the opposite side of his black little prison, one for waste and one for water. The one for water has gotten dangerously low and there’s a voice at the back of his head telling him he’s not going to last much longer down here.

Something must have happened.

The thought should bring him joy. Maybe someone finally noticed the switch, maybe Grindlewald made a mistake, maybe maybe maybe he was never getting out of the dark.

No. He was going to get out. Even if no one came for him he would get himself out. There had been times before when he’d been so close to freedom only to have the illusion swept away by a laughing Grindlewald or his own body just gave out on him. But now, if Grindlewald truly was gone then maybe he had a chance.

His legs were coltish and weak beneath him but he made it to his knees, both hands on the wall for support. He’d made the rounds of his small cell enough times to know the exact dimensions.

Five steps, turn. Five steps, turn. All the way around, just four walls and not much else. Just dark and cold and more dark.

The opening in the ceiling that Grindlewald descends from is to his left, four steps and about five meters above his head. The light is always blinding, but it’s been too long. Too long in the dark and he needs to try to escape again before his body gives out on him entirely.

Wandless magic was a thing he tried not to do unless in the direst of circumstances. He’d tried it before in this dark place and every time Grindlewald had somehow been able to tell what he’d been up to and put a very painful end to the attempt. By this point there was not a spot on his body that didn’t ache.

He closed his eyes and held up his hand. The mind was willing but the body was so very, very tired.

The water bucket, all but drained of its contents clattered on the stone floor.

He dug deeper, drawing up every reserve he had and envisioned freedom. What it would be like to see the sun again, feel fresh air on his face and hear the sounds of his city in his ears. Anything but this damned dark and cold and silence.

The bucket scraped against the stone once more as it lifted into the air.

With all the strength he had left in him he hurled the bucket at the exact spot he knew the opening to be.

There was a horrible clatter as the bucket fell back to the ground and Graves collapsed on his side, hands over his ears to try and block out the sound. His breath burst out of him in long gulps for air, his body on the verge of collapse.

A smiles broke across his face.

He’d seen light.

For that brief moment after the bucket had crashed into the ceiling there had been a crack of light. Like the opening of a trunk or briefcase.

He was going to get out, even if it killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the amount of love I'm getting for this already has blown me away. You guys are awesome! I'm going to go ahead and post the next bit because things are going to get a little hectic around here for the holidays and I have an upcoming surgery at the end of the month. There might not be anything after this until December unless I get access to my laptop while I'm in hospital. 
> 
> Once again, all mistakes are mine and characters and magical nonsense all belong to J.K.

There was never going to be a time in her life in which Tina Goldstein was called to see the President of MACUSA and not feel like a child being summoned in front of the headmaster. Even when she’d done nothing wrong and been on her absolute best behavior her mind automatically went rummaging around for some imagined slight.

Here she is, a grown woman, standing outside a door that is larger than herself and trying to talk herself into knocking.

“There’s no need to lurk, Miss Goldstein. Come in.”

Tina’s mouth goes dry and her body straightens up without her say so, like someone has slid a ruler down her back. It’s just like being back at Ilivermorny as a First Year and being absolutely terrified of every professor and Prefect she came across 

With as much courage as she could muster Tina pushed the door open and strode inside, pulling the heavy oak door closed behind her. “You wanted to see me, Madam President?”

Seraphina sat behind her desk with more grace and coiled intent than Tina has seen in any witch or wizard before. Not that she’d seen many witches or wizards in places of power, but she can imagine that not many of them could hold a candle to the cold calculus that Serpahina Piquery exudes all on her own.

“Sit down please, Miss Goldstein. It’s time you and I had a few words.”

It’s with no small amount of apprehension that Tina took her seat. She knew logically there was nothing to fear from the President, but after the last few days her nerves were almost completely shot and everything had started to look like a trap. Every stray whisper and accidental nudge had her flinching toward her wand. It’s unbecoming of an Auror.

“Do you have any idea why I’ve called you here?” Seraphina asks.

“No, ma’am.” Tina answers, and it’s the truth. There’s nothing she can think of that she’d done wrong to warrant an audience with the President. Was she going to lose her position already, so soon after finally getting it back?

Seraphina steepled her fingers together under her chin. “Due to recent unfortunate events I find myself a bit lacking when it comes to the overseeing of the security and law departments of this facility,” she paused there, almost for effect and Tina found that she had stopped breathing all together. “We are doing everything in our power to locate and retrieve Mr. Graves, but until that time I seem to have a position to fill.”

Tina chokes on air, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape in what she’s sure is an unattractive stare. She can’t help it.

“Are you,” she swallows and clears her throat. Surely she’d heard wrong. “Are you offering me Mr. Graves’ position?”

Seraphina raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I’m simply trying to find someone to fill the holes in our security until the time he is available to retake his position.” Her voice is firm, not an even a hint of uncertainty in her words.

Tina envies her that kind of conviction.

“Am I correct in assuming that you might be interested?”

“Yes!”

Seraphina’s other eyebrow raises to join the first and Tina blushes. She folds her hands on her lap and straightens in her chair, chin held high.

“I mean, yes ma’am. I would be very interested in this opportunity.” Her heart may have been beating a hundred kilometers an hour but she was going to do her best not to show it. She could be just as calm and collected as any other Auror.

The tiniest of smiles twitched at the corner of Seraphina’s mouth and to Tina it felt like victory.

“Very well then, Miss Goldstein. Consider yourself in a probationary period for the time being. You make use of Mr. Graves’ office until he sees fit to remove you from it.” I seemed that she was being dismissed as the next minute Seraphina had gone back to the papers on her desk.  
  
Tina nodded and rushed to her feet, dipping her head in a small bow before hurrying out of the office.

As soon as the door was closed behind her she let slip the smile that had been threatening to break free for the last few minutes. It would have been terribly unprofessional to grin like goblin over his gold in front of the President.

She couldn’t wait to tell Queenie.

 

\--

 

Waking up in the dark was just the same as it had always been, but this time there was a thread of hope that seemed to make the endless black that little bit more tolerable.

Graves pushed himself to his knees and sat back on his heels, trying to control his breathing as much as he could while being as exhausted as he was. His magic was all but gone, a trickle under his skin that was diminishing more and more as the minutes ticked by. The added malnourishment and past abuse was making it even harder to focus the more he tried and he feared that if he lost consciousness again he might not have the strength to fight his way back.

No matter the outcome, this would be his last attempt at escape.

With those heavy thoughts on his mind he reached out a tentative hand to feel for the overturned water bucket. Because of his earlier bid for freedom the bucket was out of its normal position and he had to blindly fumble around for a moment before his fingers made contact with cool metal.

His prize in hand, Graves made his way back to his corner, reorienting himself in his prison so that he was once again facing the opening above him. If his last attempt hadn’t had enough strength behind it, he was going to have to dig even deeper this time, drain himself of everything he had and just pray to whoever was listening that someone would find him in time.

The thought of just lying in wait, in semi-darkness and waiting for a rescue that may never come was not something that sat well with him. Percival Graves was a fighter and he didn’t like being made to rely on the strength of others. He was an ancestor of one the original twelve Aurors of the Magical Congress. He was a man that fought to the last breath. He was--he was so damned tired.

His fingers clenched tight around the rim of the bucket, knuckles going white with the force of his grip and the bones in his hands creaked with the pressure.

He was going to get out. That’s all he needed to tell himself. He was going to get out and he was going to get his wand back from Grindlewald and shove it down the man’s throat.

An inhuman sound bubbled up from some dark place inside him and he hurled the bucket upward with all the strength he had left, using his magic to push the thing further and faster than any No-Maj could have hoped to manage.

The bucket struck the ceiling and seemed to sick for the briefest of moments before it rocketed up and out. Light poured into his dark cell and Graves forced himself to look into it so long his eyes began to grow moist with burning pain. Still he didn’t look away. The hinged lid of wherever he was trapped had swung back and didn’t seem to be closing any time soon.

Distantly he could hear the bucket clattering to the floor somewhere above him as he lost his magical grip on it.

Some warped mix between a laugh and a sob worked its way up his throat and it was like gargling glass shards but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop.

He knew that room. Knew that pretentious painting adorning the ceiling tiles like the back of his hand. Tears leaked from his eyes and he collapsed back against the stone wall behind him, laughter turning into hiccuping sobs.

That was his office.

Grindlewald had been keeping him prisoner in his own damned office.

 

\--

 

The office of Percival Graves, at first glance, was everything she would have thought it to be. Tina had always pictured the space as perfectly neat and tidy. The man himself was always immaculately dressed, not a hair out of place and never any unnecessary movement or gesture. Everything Graves did had a purpose, and his office seemed to reflect that. At first.

As she took a second look there were things that were very clearly out of place.

A rather battered quaffle sitting in a stand on top of the bookshelf behind the desk, a scarf with the wampus colors and crest draped over a rather comfortable looking chair in the corner, the desk itself was clearly well loved and scuffed around the edges -maybe a hand me down family heirloom or some such.

She wandered closer to the bookshelf and allowed her fingers to drift over the spines, reading titles as she went along.

_Magical Misdemeanors and the Modern Law, Beastiarium Magicum, Defensive Magical Theory, Tales of Beedle the Bard_ -she smiled fondly, remembering her own copy of the book- _Laws of Conduct When Dealing with Muggles, The King of Elfland’s Daughter._ Her hand paused, fingers carefully drawing the book out of its place on the shelf.

What was a No-Maj book doing on Graves’ shelf?

She cracked the book open for just a peek and read the front cover.

 

> _‘I hope that no suggestion of any strange land that may be conveyed by the title will scare readers away from this book; for, though some chapters do indeed tell of Elfland, in the greater part of them there is no more to be shown than the face of the fields we know, and ordinary English woods and a common village and valley, a good twenty or twenty-five miles from the border of Elfland._
> 
> _Lord Dunsany_

 

Against her better judgement, Tina was intrigued. Magic as written by a No-Maj. It was all very interesting.

She flipped the page and read on, moving toward the chair that had looked so inviting upon her arrival to her new office space. It would take some getting used to, but the room was much nicer than anything she’d had before.

Just before she could sit down her foot struck something that clattered terribly across the floor. Her heart leapt into her throat and the book fell from suddenly nerveless fingers as she took a hasty step back.

The offending object -a bucket?- rolled across the office floor and she had to wonder just where it had come from. Mr. Graves didn’t seem like the kind of man to have that sort of thing just lying around. Where could it have -there! A trunk was pushed snug to the side of the desk, lid flung open like someone had just gone through it and forgotten to latch it closed again.

Tina picked up the bucket and book and moved to put everything back where it belonged.

As soon as she got close to the trunk however, something seemed to shift in the room. Gooseflesh raised on her arms and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. It was with a new sense of foreboding that Tina approached the trunk, barely resisting the urge to draw her wand. She crept to the edge and peered into what at first seemed like endless black.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust and as soon as they did the book dropped once more from her fingers, along with the bucket. A strangled scream caught in her throat at the site of a naked Percival Graves curled at the bottom of the trunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book that quote is from is indeed The King of Elfland's Daughter and it is fantastic. If you don't mind the prose side of fantasy definitely give it a look. One of he best fantasy books ever written in my opinion, and it was published in 1924 so it fits with the timeline as well as giving a little insight into my version of Percy. 
> 
> Feel free to comment and critique and I'll see you guys in December. Happy holidays!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I lied about waiting to update this. I've been kinda hyper pre-op, and since I didn't really have a Thanksgiving I was working on this instead. So enjoy an early chapter as a gift from a bored me. Still unbetad so all mistakes are mine

 

“-rcival, wake up.”

The words don’t makes sense a first, like he’s underwater and someone is shouting at him. His ears are full and his head seems to weigh so much he can’t even turn to face the the voice.

“Percy! C’mon man, wake up.”

There’s no denying that voice, no way to just keep his eyes closed and pretend like he hasn’t heard. Something about all this seems so familiar, but without opening his eyes he can’t be sure. The situation needs to be assessed, and yet opening his eyes is the last thing he wants to do. The last time his eyes had been open he’d been looking at freedom just out of his reach. If that was somehow still the reality when he finally decided to wake up, it just might break what was left of his spirit.

“Percy, man I can see your eyes moving.” There are fingers prodding just under his eyelid. “I know you’re awake, so c’mon already. Everyone’s dying to get a look at you.”

Again he’s hit by the odd thought that he’s been here before, that this conversation has happened before.

He opens his eyes. Slowly, and one at a time.

“There he is!” A dark, freckled face grins back at him and Graves is suddenly fifteen years old again, looking up at his best friend from his sickbed. Something ugly and very close to grief twists in his gut and there’s a sudden burning in his eyes that he can’t stop. “Whoa, Percy easy does it. You still hurtin’?”

“Charlie,” Tears are suddenly leaking from the corners of his eyes, hot and shameful and he doesn’t care. He knows this is a dream, knows it’s not real because the last time he saw Charlie the other boy had been barely eighteen, barely out of school, barely a man at all when he’d stepped off that bridge. To this day Graves still doesn’t know if he’d done it on purpose or not.

“Alright, you guys gotta go. He’s still not one hundred percent yet. Alla yous scram!”

He hadn’t noticed all the other people gathered around his bed, but he can hear them grumble and shuffle their feet as they all leave. Probably well wishers and the like, if this is the memory he thinks it is.

There’s the final click of the hospital wing’s door closing, followed by complete silence, the kind that seems to have an actual weight to it. Its pressing down on his chest, crushing his ribs inward and making it very hard to draw another breath.

“Easy Percy, you’re alright.” There’s a hand patting at his cheek and he leans into it. The world isn’t making any kind of sense around him and he needs that touch. Needs that feel of something familiar to ground himself. “That’s it, just breathe.”

“Charlie, where?” Words don’t seem to be working, getting caught in his throat like fabric on the underbrush he’s still trying to force his mind through. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.

“You’re in sickbay, Percy. Ya took a header off your broom jumping for that quaffle.” Graves can see familiar crooked teeth in that grin. “Always told you, you weren’t cut out to be a Keeper.”

Charlie’s hand moves up to razzle his hair affectionately and that makes his eyes burn all the more.

When was the last time someone had touched him without an ulterior motive? Before Grindlewald? Definitely not after. The other wizard had only ever wanted to cause pain.

“We won though, right?” He sniffles. If the memory holds, they’ll have won. His desperate dive off his broom had turned the tide for Wampus and they’d eventually clinched a victory.

Charlie’s face falls.

He doesn’t remember this.

“Sorry, Perc.” Charlie says, ducking away from him. “They called the game right after, gave it to the Thunderbirds. Reckless endangerment and conduct unbecoming or some such.”

That wasn’t what happened. Something dark is growing in his chest, pressing up against his sternum.

“No, that’s not-”

“If you’da just stayed on your broom, trusted your guys to help ya we coulda had it.” Charlie’s voice is growing in volume, dropping in pitch while his anger grows.

That thing in his chest turns cold, fingers of ice tearing through his guts.

“Why you always gotta act like you’re the only that knows what they’re doing?”

There’s a shadow behind Charlie, like a man, hands on the boy’s shoulders and a white gash of a smile where a face should be.

All of a sudden that cold in his veins is very familiar.

“Get out,” his voice is so young in his own ears, so close to begging. “You’re not real, get out!”

That ghostly grin transfers to Charlie’s face and Graves closes his eyes, trying to shut it all out. He’d rather be back in the dark, back in the cold, anywhere but here.

Cold inches up his body and suddenly there are fingers around his throat. The same as they were the day of his downfall, the day this all began.

“Oh, Percival.” The voice, Grindlwald’s voice, is draped over Charlie’s like some kind of perverted phonograph recording. “It’s just death. Just a little thing so small and quick you’ll barely feel it at all.”

He can’t breathe.

“Just let it all go.”

He keeps his eyes closed. His body is freezing and wracked with shivers and he can’t breathe but he keeps his eyes closed. The last thing he sees will not be a shade of his best friend being puppeted by Grindlewald’s ghost.

“That’s it, just-”

The warmth starts at his toes, but it is enough to drag his focus away from the encroaching darkness and cold. Such a small thing and yet it is enough to stall the specter hanging over him. There’s another voice now. One just as familiar as Charlie’s yet this one is somehow more. It is real. He knows it is the same way he knew Charlie was just a dream.

“Fight, Graves. We need you here.”

The warmth moves up through his legs and into his gut.

“You’re safe now.”

The ice melts and he can breathe again.

“Don’t make me do this on my own.”

He opens his eyes.

  


\--

  


Being the President of the Magical Congress didn’t give Seraphina much time to spend on herself or her own personal affairs, so when Percival Graves opens his eyes for the first time in two days and she’s there to see it she takes a moment to thank any and all deities that might be listening.

She had resigned herself to not being present when he woke up and had been readying herself to just being prepared when the alert arrived, hoping that she could get away from whatever she might be doing when it came. This was a far better outcome.

“Graves?” She stood from her seat at the man’s bedside. “Graves, can you hear me?”

Graves’ eyes blinked a few times very rapidly before squinting against the light in the medical ward.

Seraphina waved her wand in a distracted jerk of her arm and the lights dimmed to something a bit more manageable. A nurse passed by to see what was going on and Seraphina waved her off to get a doctor.

“Graves?” She reached out with her wandless hand as if to brush against his cheek. “Percival?”

Her fingers had just barely brushed his skin -cold, Merlin’s beard why was he so cold- when Graves jerked up in bed, eyes wild and wide.

The blast of pure magical intent the man pushed out sent Seraphina stumbling back a step, wand raised in a defensive stance as if to ward off an attack. She hadn’t been expecting something so violent. The wave had rolled over her like a snowdrift, cold and desolate and hopeless.

By the time she’d gotten herself back under control Graves had collapsed back in the bed and a doctor was rushing in to see what all the fuss was about.

“Mr. Graves,” the doctor said. “I’m doctor Harolds. Do you know where you are?”

In any other circumstances the sound that Graves made would have been called a laugh. In that moment Seraphina had no idea what to call it. Like broken glass shook up in a jar. And maybe that was the best word for it. Broken.

Graves laughed. “No,” he said breathlessly. “No I don’t.”

Seraphina excused herself from the room. She didn’t need to be there. She didn’t _want_ to be there. Graves was one of her dearest friends and closest colleagues, and while she desperately wanted to help him through this, there was only so much she could do for him without looking out for her own needs as well.

She couldn’t help anyone if she was falling apart right beside them.

  


\--

  


Graves didn’t have to watch Seraphina leave to know that she had left. The woman had a presence about her and the room had suddenly felt a bit more empty once she’d left it.

For the most part the doctor, Harolds, had answered the few questions he’d had, but some of the more delicate ones would have to be answered by Seraphine herself. There was still so much he needed to tell them, so much he wanted to know. But it seemed as if both his mind and body were having no more of that today.

As soon as the doctors and nurses had left he could already feel himself slipping back under into sleep. He could only hope this one would be dreamless.

  


\--

  


It felt as if she’d run her fingers over the pages of the book a hundred times by now. She probably had. It hadn’t left her hands since she’d _found him._

Even now, two days later, she’s had the book within reaching distance the entire time. She’s taken to sleeping in the chair in her- _Graves’_ -office. It really was just as comfortable as she’d imagined.

Her eyes dart to the base of the desk, to the empty spot on the floor and something cold skitters down her spine.

The trunk itself has been removed, taken somewhere else that she can’t be bothered to remember so that someone else can go over it for any kind of evidence as to what had happened to Graves while he was imprisoned.

_In his own office,_ she thought. He’d been so close and none of them were ever the wiser. Gellert Grindlewald had been impersonating one of their own and no one had even noticed.

Something very much like a sob wants to burst out of her and Tina clutches the book to her chest, feet tucked up under her on the comfy chair as she holds back tears of frustration.

Someone should have noticed.

And that’s how Queenie finds her, however many hours later. Still tucked up in the chair with a book open on her lap that she hasn’t even begun to read. Maybe she should, maybe she should put it back, maybe she shouldn’t even be there at all. It wasn’t her office anymore.

“Oh, Teenie.”

Queenie kneels at her feet and Tina gives her a watery smile.

“No one even noticed, Q.” She sniffed, reached out with one hand to curl her fingers over her sister’s. “I may not have known him well outside of here, but I feel like someone should’ve-”

“Hush,” Queenie interrupted.

“There’s no need to go blamin yourself for any of this. It all worked out in the end, right?” She smiled that smile of hers that always made Tina feel better, like maybe everything really was going to be ok.

“I guess. It’s just that he’s been stuck down there for who knows how long and Grin-Grindlewald could’ve been doing anything to him.” She hates the way she stumbles over the name, angry with herself that she can’t even do that.

Queenie just pats her hand, still smiling that smile.

“Don’t think about it, sis. Doesn’t do nobody any good.” She perks up a bit, popping up to her feet like a daisy in the spring. “Whatcha say you go pay him a visit? Maybe take that book with you. It’s gotta be one of his favorites if it’s in here on his shelf, right?”

It’s something she’s been meaning to do. A lot of the Aurors have been meaning to drop by and see if Graves has woken up yet, but as far as she knows, the only one that actually goes is Miss Picquery.

“M-maybe I will.” She fiddled with the edges of the book’s pages. “Just to drop it off. I won’t stay long.”

“There ya go!” Queenie’s smile is infectious. “He’d probably be happy to meet the lady that got him outta that silly trunk.”

Just the thought of the trunk, and the whole business surrounding it sets her stomach to roiling. She never wants to think about that moment of her life ever again if she can help it.

Queenie seems to realize her breach in the conversation and she quickly reaches out to take Tina’s hands in hers.

“Let’s go now, before you lose your nerve.” She gives their joined hands a tug. “And you never know, he could have woken up by now!”

Tina honestly doesn’t know which outcome she would prefer at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and criticisms are always welcome! Come say hi at the new [tumblr](http://www.theshiningline.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is gonna be a short chapter, but I'm still in the process of getting my exams finished and I need a break after that nonsense. Surgery went well, but it definitely could have been planned a little better. Having it right before finals week sucked. So enjoy this little update and I'll have a longer one up next time!

He was everywhere and yet nowhere at once. Light and sound and every little thing pulling at him like hooks dug in under his skin, pulling and pulling until he thought his body would break apart.

There was sun on his face. He could feel the heat and warmth of it, yet it was still so dark. A black nothingness spread out in all directions and making it impossible to know which way was up or down or even where he was. The last thing he remembered was pain.

“Please, you’re scaring me.”

He knew that voice. He knew he had to protect it.

“Credence, c’mon. You have to come back.

There were tears in that voice and it tugged at something behind his breastbone. He had to-had to do something. But what? There was something so very important that he as forgetting.

“Credence…”

Modesty.

How could he have forgotten?

Modesty. He was supposed to be looking out for her. With their mother and Chastity gone, she would be all alone.

He took the darkness in both hands and pushed it back, finally opening his eyes.

 

\--

 

Tina’s not exactly surprised that Graves was still sleeping when she finally made her way to the medical wing to see him.

It had taken a lot of cajoling but Tina had finally convinced Queenie that she needed to do this on her own. I wasn’t that she didn’t want her sister with her, on the contrary she wanted that very much, but she felt like this was something she had to do on her own.

In the time before Grindlewald, before Newt and his case and the battle for a young man’s mind, Graves had been an imposing figure. Always seemingly busy and totally alert at all times. He’d been the kind of man that could implore you to spill your deepest secrets without saying a word. The kind of man whose presence seemed to fill every room he entered, stretching to fill the available space.

Seeing him now, pale and still and so vulnerable felt wrong.

She’d been telling the truth when she told Queenie that she hadn’t known him well. To her knowledge no one really did, besides Madame Picquery of course. Graves had never been one to attend social functions with the other Aurors, never going for drinks after a hard case or a dragging day of work. He’d kept to himself.

Along with being one of the most powerful wizards in America, that had probably been a deciding factor when Grindlewald had chosen to implant himself among them.

No one would know if Graves stopped making some small gesture, or dressed a bit differently because no one would know any different.

Collapsing into the chair at the man’s bedside Tina hugged her arms around herself and ducked her head.

Graves may not have been the most understanding of men, never one for compromise, but he’d been fair. He’d helped her when she needed it and allowed her to make her own mistakes, never once calling her out for them and instead giving her a gentle nudge to correct herself on her own.

After she’d been demoted for the business with the Second Salemers she’d seen the understanding in his eyes. He’d been disappointed, but to this day she swears that there was a sort of pride there as well.

Maybe if she’d been paying more attention in the days following that incident…

She shook her head. There was no time for regrets now. What’s done was done and they all needed to find a way to move past this.

Someone cleared their throat and Tina almost fell out of her seat. Her head jerked up and she met the tired, yet very alert eyes of Percival Graves.

“Miss Goldstein,” Merlin’s beard his voice sounded rough. “What are you doing here?”

That’s right. As far as he knew she was still supposed to be working in the wand permit office.

“Mr. Graves, sir.” Her eyes skittered away, unable to stay in contact with his. “I, uh, I came to give this back to you.” She unfolded her arms to reveal the book she had clutched to her chest. The same one she’d been trying to read for so long.

“Madame Picquery had your office sealed again after I--after you were brought back. I couldn’t get back in to put it back so I thought I should bring it by in person.” It was a flimsy excuse and something in the turn of Graves’ mouth told her he knew it too. She was grateful when he didn’t call her on it.

Graves just maneuvered himself slowly to sit up, leaning back against the multitude of pillows at his back and held out his hand.

Tina looked at his hand for a moment in morbid curiosity, momentarily distracted. They’d been tucked under the blankets before, but now that one was out in the open she felt her stomach roil with sympathy.

Graves’ fingers were bruised black and purple, still slightly swollen after what had to be multiple breaks. Skelegrow could only do much and smaller bones were always harder to knit back together because they were so frail to begin with. There were tiny red lines, like lightning criss crossing the backs of his hands and down his palm, from fingertip to wrist. It almost looked like he’d caught a magical backlash with his bare hands.

Graves bobbed his hand up and down once, silently asking for the book again and Tina scrambled to hand it over without hurting him.  
The book passed gently between them and Graves set it on his covered lap without so much as glancing at it.

“You know you’re the first one to visit me, Miss Goldstein.”

Tina’s eyes jerked up from where she’d still been staring at his hands.

“Surely Madame Picquery at least-”

“The President is very busy I’m sure. We have one of the strongest dark wizards in the world in our custody and the safety of our community takes precedence over one man.”

By the tone of his voice Tina knew that he truly believed that.

“The others will come. I’m sure of it.” She wasn’t, but it made her feel better to say. “They’re just waiting for the right time.”

Graves made a small sound that wrenched at something behind Tina’s breastbone.

“It doesn’t matter.” Clearly it did. “I’m just glad someone who was actually involved in all this happened to be the one to come by. You have answers that no one else does.”

Tina blinked.

“No one’s told you what happened?”

“They’ve told me Grindlewald was captured, that an Obscurial had been loose in the city and that somehow we managed to keep it contained. Other than that,” he shrugged. A very odd gesture to see on someone Tina was quite sure she’d never seen so much as sigh before. “I’d be very grateful if you could fill in the blanks while I have the mental capacity to still understand you.”

“Well, it all started when Mr. Scamander’s creatures got out in the middle of the city.”

“Wait.”

Tina looked back up and was shocked to see something that looked very close to amusement in Graves’ eyes.

“Scamander? Newt Scamander? How in Merlin’s name did he get tangled up in all this?”

“You know him?” That was news to her. Newt hadn’t acted like he’d ever seen Graves before when they’d met.

Graves actually smiled this time and Tina thought it suited him much better than the scowl he wore so often around the office.

“I keep in touch with his older brother. He speaks very highly of Newt in our correspondence.” One of his hands clenched in the bedsheets and Tina forced herself not to look at it again.

“Tell me everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, critique and comments are always welcome! Come check out the new tumblr I'm [theshiningline](http://www.theshiningline.tumblr.com)


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